


A Million to One Against

by firestarter (devonair)



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Depends, F/M, Rookie Assassin Yassen (first chapter at least), and i'm still upset, come on i can't be the only one who had a thing for him, could be oneshot could be more, dude it's been 14 years since eagle strike, yes i'm doing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 02:31:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devonair/pseuds/firestarter
Summary: Or, what are the odds of running into the man who will become the world's top assassin? What are the odds of helping him out of a dire situation without even realizing it?





	A Million to One Against

**Author's Note:**

> Hoooo boy is this old. I'll probably do more and I intended to do more but uhhhh, that didn't happen yet
> 
> anyway, yeah! hope it's in character and all. cool. let's commence.

The young woman was wholly average, except for her razor-edged mind and powerful sense of empathy. She had her routine – begin her morning shift at the café, have a packed lunch by the fountain in the park, and go home to write. She also had sudden bursts of inspiration sometimes, a need to do things differently, to shake it all up a bit. Her romantic’s heart told her that maybe something magical would happen to her one day, and she let herself believe in the same way a long-suffering mother would encourage her imaginative little girl.

            That young woman was you, and you had just thrown away the wrapper from your sandwich when, like kismet or logic or chance, you spotted him across the grass. He was dressed in dark colors, unassuming and easy to skim over, and maybe you would have ignored him if his eyes hadn’t met yours for the briefest moment.

            You would swear until your dying day that when you looked into his eyes, you felt a chill run down your spine. He was completely normal, and you could find nothing about him that screamed _bank robber_ , or _kidnapper_ , or _serial killer_ ; he was perfectly average, and yet you could barely manage to turn away.

            The three men shoving you aside came as a complete shock to you if only because you tried to think better of people. The sharp and offended (and really a little undignified) _“Hey!”_ that left your mouth made the tallest man turn to face you fully, and you swallowed hard.

            “Sorry, miss,” he said bluntly, his words drawled like he’d just woken up from a drug-induced nap. He didn’t sound very sorry at all, and his cold, dull eyes seemed to stare right through you without real acknowledgment. The other men barely offered you a glance each before they turned their eyes to their surroundings. You could almost see the steam billowing slowly out of the tall man’s ears as he hissed,

            “Where’s he gone? I’ll give ’im more than just a side full o’ lead when he turns up.”

            You weren’t meant to hear that, you were sure. But you were an average woman, and they didn’t seem the sort to care about what women heard.

            You could’ve left then, with the heavy and uncomfortable feeling that someone was going to die that day and you knew all about it, but then the burliest man chose that moment to point at one of the park-goers.

            “Hey, that’s him, ain’t it? Coulda sworn he was wearing a jacket like that, maybe.”

            The line of his thick finger led straight to the man with the stormy eyes. His gait was slow, not hurried or panicked or like that of a man on the run; but you saw the split-second hesitation as he put weight on his right leg, and you knew that yes, that was him they were looking for.

            You didn’t even know him – you could barely even tell anything about him by looking at him. You saw that he carried himself with the grace of a professional dancer, but the set of his shoulders spoke of an alertness that the stage didn’t foster. He was unremarkable at a glance, but the startling blue of his eyes spoke of a sharp, unusual intelligence. Your eyes narrowed and you saw that, yes, his side was soaked with blood under the black jacket, and you never figured out what made you want to help him in the first place.

            But you did. And before the three men could gather themselves enough to figure out how best to take the man by surprise, you picked your purse up from the fountain’s edge and began walking down the path that would cross his.

            You did your absolute best to look like anyone else would on a walk in the park, strolling without any real pressure to be anywhere else. You smiled at the occasional passing couple and sidestepped a smattering of crumb-hungry ducks. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the Tallest Man making his laughably obvious way towards the man in the black jacket, and you tried not to hurry.

            Then, like a small burst of serendipity and pleasant coincidences, you let your eyes light on the blue-eyed man. The delighted laugh that left your throat was sharp and loud, and his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

            _“John?”_ you exclaimed, grasping for a name. “Oh, my gosh, you’re early! Oh, babe, it’s been _ages_! Come here!”

            You weren’t quite sure what to expect of his reaction, but you hoped he would get the hint and play along. You saw his shoulders go rigid and hesitated for a fraction of a second, but then your arms were around his neck and you had a clear view of the approaching Tallest Man.

            You buried your face in the newly christened John’s shoulder and turned your face to speak into his ear.

            “Listen, I have no idea who you are, but I don’t think those guys are looking for a couple, alright?”

            You felt him nod, a barely perceptible motion, and stepped back as if to examine his face more closely.

            “Oh, Johnny, you should’ve told me you were going to be here this soon. I would’ve had time to straighten up my apartment.” Your playful scold was delivered with a gentle swat to his shoulder, and you could see the falter in the Tallest Man’s step.

            John’s gaze when he looked at you was searching, but his mouth quickly spread into a crooked smile, genuine and almost shy.

            “You would, but I just couldn’t wait to see you. You would really make me wait to spend time with you again, after all this time?”

            You huffed a piece of stray hair out of your face, rolling your eyes.

            “Some boyfriend you are,” you complained good-naturedly, and reached up to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. He let you, staying patiently still, and his skin was cool and smooth and felt not at all unpleasant under your lips.

            “Some boyfriend I am,” he agreed with a short laugh. In a swift move that almost felt practiced, he threaded his fingers through yours and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. You could feel the callouses on his fingers and squeezed his hand back.

            A subtle glance behind you and you saw the Tallest Man shake his head in barely disguised frustration and turn to march back to his group. They bought it. They actually _bought_ it. You grinned, unable to help yourself, and leaned your head against his arm. The fact that he glanced down fondly instead of stepping away reminded you that you were not out of the proverbial woods just yet; you still had to make it out of the park.

             “Come on, I’ll put on some coffee and maybe we can watch _Return of the Jedi_ , and then you can tell me all about how college is treating you. Sound good?”

            His nose wrinkled ever so slightly, and you were thrown by his acting skills. If you’d been watching the exchange, you would have totally bought the notion that this tall and striking man was actually your boyfriend.

            “Star Wars again?” he asked in quiet dismay as the two of you rounded the corner into the street, and you laughed aloud. He really sold it.

            “Don’t knock the classics,” you shot back with a nudge to his arm, before remembering that he had a bullet in his side. Figuring you were both far enough away from the three men by this point, you stopped, looking up at him in concern. “Sorry. Is your side going to be okay? Do you need an ambulance?”

            “No,” he replied bluntly, dropping the cute boy act. “I will be alright. You should go home. Do not come back to the park for at least a few days. And do not say anything about what you saw today. It is none of your concern, and though I would prefer it, I do not have to leave you alive.”

            The glacial intelligence was back in the pale blue of his eyes and you didn’t think you could have moved if you wanted to. This man was a mystery, distant as the moon, and very, very dangerous.

            You also held his hand and kissed his cheek, and maybe even saved his life.

            There was nothing more you could say, but there were also so many things left to tell him. This was so far out of your routine, you didn’t even know where to start. _Who are you? What did you do that was bad enough to get you shot? What is your real name? Where are you going now?_

            Instead, you released a quiet, shuddery breath and looked straight into his cold, pretty eyes.

            “Promise me you’ll get yourself fixed up, okay? Promise me you’ll be more careful.”

            His eyebrows climbed ever so slightly; you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been watching his face so closely. That was surprise flickering against his neutral expression. He gathered himself, though, and nodded slightly. There was a new curiosity when he looked down at you for a moment, and you didn’t allow yourself to breathe.

            “I will,” he replied softly, and those two words were the last you heard from him before he turned and disappeared into the waning light of evening.

            You never learned his name.


End file.
